


Singing in the Shower (and Other Places, Too)

by drpinkky



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Angie Martinelli has ADHD, Angie sings all the time, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2016-10-07
Packaged: 2018-08-19 01:10:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8183066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drpinkky/pseuds/drpinkky
Summary: Angie likes to sing, and Peggy likes her voice.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hi !! i had a thought and i wanted to write it. there's gonan be more coming soon ish possibly

Early shifts at the diner were like a double edged sword. While setting up the L&L for a full day of customers wasn’t Angie’s favorite part of the job, that was an hour she didn’t have to deal with said patrons. And that left her with less time to suffer through the often crude behavior of the men who frequented the business.

 Early shifts also left her time to spend the rest of the day however she liked. Usually, that meant poring over audition materials or shopping, but today, she felt a hot bath calling to her. A nice reward for making it through another day without smashing her serving tray over the head of one of those creeps.

 Mr. Fancy rolled up to the automat just as her shift finished. He stepped out of the car and held open the door, an action that never failed to make her feel like the movie star she aspired to become.

 “Are there any errands you need to run, Miss Martinelli, or shall I take you directly home?” Fancy asked from behind the wheel.

“Home, if you don’t mind,” Angie sighed, relaxing into the seat. He nodded and ferried her to the mansion she sometimes couldn’t believed she lived in.

Howard Stark’s “Thank You For Saving Me Again” gift to Peggy had everything a millionaire could want: eight bedrooms, ten bathrooms, three living rooms, a state-of-the-art kitchen, even a _ballroom_ , but what was enough for a millionaire was overwhelming to most other people, so Peggy had invited Angie to live with her. Angie gladly accepted, and the wonder she’d felt the first day she’d set foot in her home had never really faded.

Especially her awe at the plumbing.

Having grown up in a large family, then sharing various apartments until she landed in The Griffith, Angie never had much experience with a shower that stayed warm for longer than five minutes. Now, in a building built for twenty that only housed two, Angie could take the time to appreciate the simple pleasure of a long, hot shower.

The only problem with the house, she conceded, was the bathrooms. More specifically, that the bathrooms didn’t connect directly with the bedrooms. While she never ran into Peggy while dressed in nothing but a bathrobe or a towel, the possibility for that situation existed, and Angie did her best to push those thoughts aside.

Better to not think like that.

* * *

 

Part of Angie’s enjoyment of taking long showers came from the amazing acoustics in the bathroom. When she sang, the entire room echoed, despite the noise produced by the shower. No one could tell her to stop, either, as many of the people she’d lived with before had done. Peggy wasn’t even home yet, and even if she were, she could just go to the other side of the house so she didn’t have to hear it.

She rinsed the soap from her hair, singing, “Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered” at the top of her lungs, until she heard another voice accompanying her own. Possibilities ran through her mind, as she took into account the huge number of people who might want to hurt Peggy.

Just her luck- the bad guys coming to kidnap her while she was in the _shower_ of all places!

Wait, what kind of bad guy worth their salt sings along with the person they’re going to kidnap?

She barely thought before she shut off the water, wrapped a towel around herself, and poked her head out of the bathroom door.

Peggy stood, mouth dangling open, in the hallway in front of the bathroom. Angie noted a blush creeping up her friend’s face, and despite the sudden wave of fear crashing over her, she stepped out of the bathroom and in front of her friend. She couldn’t help the grin tugging at the corners of her mouth at Peggy’s expense, masking her fear that she may have just completely offended the best friend she’d ever had.


	2. Chapter 2

Peggy herself, had not had the best day of her career. Even with SHIELD established and more or less running smoothly, she rarely had time to just take a break. After three stressful back-to-back meetings with various dignitaries, Peggy cleared her afternoon and called Mr. Jarvis. 

Peggy waved goodbye to Edwin as she walked through the front door. Angie's purse hung on the coat stand, which meant her roommate was home, which she would never complain about. She walked to her room, thinking of how to treat herself later- probably a good brandy and a book- when she heard Angie’s voice, singing out from the bathroom.

“Bewitched, bothered and bewildered, am I!”

Absently, she stopped in her tracks and sang along. She didn’t register when the water turned off, not until Angie stood in front of her, covered only in a towel. “Thought you said you couldn’t carry a tune, English,” she teased. Peggy stumbled over her words, feeling a blush creep up her face. Despite her lack of training in any field of espionage, Angie Martinelli was one of maybe three people who could consistently catch Peggy off-guard.

After a moment, of struggling: to form words, to focus only on Angie’s face, to do anything, Peggy managed, “I like your voice,” then hurried down the hall to her room. Angie’s laugh echoed after her.

“Yours isn’t so bad yourself!” Angie called after her.

* * *

After that, Peggy noticed whenever Angie sang. When the house got too quiet, a muffled rendition of “White Christmas” rang through the halls, despite the August heat. When doing her laundry, Angie whistled something like Steamboat Willie’s tune. Peggy couldn’t help but stop for a moment and smile at her friend’s endearing behaviors.

It didn’t slip Peggy’s attention that many of Angie’s songs were love songs, either. As she worked the vegetables in the salad together, out of the corner of her eye, she watched Angie prepare the lasagna. Under her breath, she sang what sounded like a faster version of “I Got It Bad,” and Peggy tried to ignore how she seemed to make eye contact every time she sang the title.

Angie moved quickly through the kitchen, almost like dancing. Her movements were fluid, with the occasional twirl while she moved from one area to another. Slowly Peggy lost interest in the salad, preferring to just watch Angie.

“Y’know, the salad’s not gonna toss itself,” Angie remarked as she pulled plates out of a cabinet. Peggy dropped her eyes to the bowl on the counter and mixed the contents roughly. Angie removed their lasagna from the oven and served a plate for Peggy. “For a spy, you really aren’t that subtle,” she said with a grin.


End file.
